


The Crocker Corp. Drone

by mitspeiler, polyfandrous



Series: Polymit's February Writeoff! [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Consumerism, Explosions, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Other, Romance, Valentine's Day, and a whole lotta apathy, corporate holidays, crack ship, polymit challenge, unexpected ship, what the ever living fuck?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-12 22:04:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3356939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitspeiler/pseuds/mitspeiler, https://archiveofourown.org/users/polyfandrous/pseuds/polyfandrous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The second installment in polyfandrous and mitspeiler's February Writeoff! This week's topic was Reader/Imperial Drone, although both authors have very different writing styles, and both are fairly sure that they took different approaches. For the winner of last week's contest, both authors are fairly convinced that mitspeiler won, although based on kudos, just barely. To be clear, mitspeiler wrote Frozen Hearts, Frozen Cream, but the authors are sure that anyone who read both that and Vanilla knew who wrote what. The authors are making an attempt at better concealing their identities (if one of them doesn't fuck it up, that is). Anyways, same rules apply: read on and let us know what you think!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Crocker Corp. Drone

Your alarm begins beeping incessantly. Just another weekday morning, nothing special going on here. You get out of bed sleepily and conduct your morning routine with all the enthusiasm of a zombie. You dress, brush your teeth, and walk out the door with a piece of toast and some coffee. It’s a decent, 20-minute walk to work in the crisp morning air, and by the time you arrive at the office you’ve consumed your toast and coffee, finally feeling ready for another mediocre day. Well, perhaps this one will be better - you didn’t almost get poked in the eye by another troll’s horn. It’s the little things in life, right?

You arrive at your cubicle to witness Nepeta and Karkat chatting amicably. Which of course meant that Nepeta was smiley and bubbly, and Karkat was frowning and nearly shouting curses at the lady. A box of chocolates and a single red rose on Nepeta’s desk seem to be the source of Karkat’s indigestion. Or perhaps rabies? He did almost seem to be frothing at the mouth.

”I guess not everything’s perfect in paradise?” you snark at the lovebirds. You’re aware that this is the two trolls’ dynamic, but you can’t help but poke fun at them.

”Oh shove those words down your chute and choke, fucknut,” Karkat replies irritably. “Nepeta has laughed at my fucking beautiful flushed gesture!”

”Well sure it’s nice, Karkat, but if you wanted to celebrate Valentine’s Day you could have thought of something a _bit_ more romantic!” Nepeta teases. “It’s supposed to be a romantic day, and just because it’s been taken over by consumerism didn’t mean you had to buy into it! And Crocker Corp. brand treats, no less! You couldn’t have tried any less hard.”

You laugh at the fuming troll. “Seriously dude, you bought her stuff from the company you work for? It’s a new low for you. I have to agree with Nepeta, Valentine’s Day is a bunch of corporate bullshit. Romance can’t be bought with chocolates and roses.”

”And what would you even know about romance?!” Karkat scoffs. “You couldn’t get a romance-obsessed two-sweeps-old to look at you twice, you pus-filled wart on the back of society!”

This, of course, just makes you laugh harder. The more riled up Karkat is, the more inventive his insults get. That one was beyond impressive. Your laughter dies in your throat as you notice the doors at the other end of the office open, revealing a mass of black, gold, and fuchsia, flanked by candy red. The impressive, regal figure and her bodyguards sweep through the cubicles. Every employee present sits the fuck down and gets to work, eyes down at their workstations, hoping to avoid the gaze of the CEO herself - Her Imperial Condescension. You, being one of the sane employees, follow suit.

The clopping of heels and heavier footsteps slow and stop right beside your cubicle, bringing wild ebony hair into your peripheral vision. You risk a glance upwards, and your gaze meets a fuchsia one briefly. Then the Condesce looks back up and says loudly, without shouting, “Whale, get yo’ basses back to work! I don’t pay flounders!” Then she continues on her way, silent red drones following her through the next set of doors. You get the impression of a collective sigh of relief from the rest of the employees. Well, you’d best do as you’re told - slacking won’t pay your bills.

What seems like an eternity later (seriously, finances are ludicrously boring, and you wish you didn’t have a propensity for balancing figures) the sound of something rolling up to your desk shocks you into motion. You turn in your chair wildly, accidentally hitting your stapler and sending it flying. You hear the sound of hard plastic crashing against metal before you register the red drone lying on the ground in front of you. What the…?

”Wow, you didn’t have to knock the poor drone over!” Nepeta chuckles at the situation in front of you. You’re still staring down at the robot and can almost swear you see those anime lines swirling above its head, indicating dizziness (or just being stunned? You’re not sure, you were never a weeaboo).

”Troll Jegus, you’re clumsier than a wriggler on roller skates!” Karkat exclaims, stepping over to help the drone up. “You’d better hope Her Imperial Crockerness doesn’t find out about this and stick her x2 fork up your nook!”

You nod, still sort of stunned at the whole situation. You never even notice the note in the monstrous hand of the oversized automaton, and when the crimson finally leaves your vision you shake yourself and get back to work. You may be well on your way to getting baked into a cake if you don’t get back to work, and that’s assuming the Condesce doesn’t hear about you assaulting one of her prized drones.

Not terribly long afterwards, you collect a pile of paperwork to bring downstairs to the file room. You probably could have waited until the end of the day, once you were done all of your reports, but you felt you needed a walk to clear your head. It seemed full to the brim with figures and hearts and Karkat’s smug, floating face gloating about how you never have a date for Valentine’s Day. But you weren’t bothered by that, even though you couldn’t seem to escape the thought. It was just a stupid corporate holiday like any other, to gull the weak-minded masses into spending a fuckton of money on things to show their love. Nepeta had been right: you can’t buy romance. Transfer three billion to the resource account… Wow, yeah, you _really_ needed a chance to clear your head. Thinking of romance and finances at the same time was incredibly disconcerting.

Suddenly, the elevator grated to a halt, nearly making you shriek in fear. What the fuck?! Not only had you not noticed entering the elevator, what could make it stop like that? Even stranger was a red, metallic arm holding a bouquet of roses that were crushed against the ceiling of the elevator. Actually, you realized it wasn’t disembodied, which was even stranger. It seemed to be stuck between the doors, and then the elevator had started to descend.

”Wow, those things must be made of titanium,” you mutter under your breath, hitting the Emergency Stop button. As you sit down to wait for maintenance, or perhaps the Fire Department, to free you from your prison, the drone arm (presumably attached to an entire, complete drone) opens its fist to drop the roses at your feet. A card flutters down with them, simply asking, “Be my Valentine?” Could this morning get any stranger?

It actually doesn’t take long for the firemen to free the Imperial drone from the doors of the elevator, and subsequently you. It had already taken off before you were freed, so you couldn’t even inquire about the roses. You were pretty sure robots couldn’t feel, but there sure as hell wasn’t anyone else who’d want to woo you. After a short interrogation, as the firemen were puzzled at how you’d managed to get stuck with part of a drone in an elevator, you were allowed to return to your desk. There, of course, you met the curious stares of Nepeta and Karkat. Not that Karkat would be silent for long. One… Two…-

”Where the fruity rumpus asshole factory have you _been_?!” he asks, relatively predictably. Sooner than you’d expected, too. “We heard that some fucktard got stuck in the elevator. Considering how lucky you are, we assumed it was you.”

”Oh come on Karkat, you could be a little nicer. That would have been a traumatic experience!” Nepeta gives you a knowing, sympathetic look. “But really, was it you?” she asks, just politely enough to avoid looking - to the average bystander - as gossip hungry as she actually was. Those two were painfully predictable.

”Yeah, it was me. Although that’s not even the weirdest thing,” you say, handing Nepeta the one rose you picked up, and the card. “A whole bouquet of those and that card were in the mitt of an Imperial drone, whose arm was the reason I got stuck in the elevator at all.”

Nepeta started asking how that could even happen, but was interrupted by Karkat shouting, “You are the most apathetic fucking waste of a thinkpan I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting!” People in other cubicles actually stood up to see what the commotion was all about, but the furious troll either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “You’ve just been asked out on a date and you don’t give two flying fucks!”

You’re actually slightly shocked at Vantas’s vehemence. Sure, romance wasn’t exactly your forte, but it had never bothered you one way or the other. Besides, “How the hell could an Imperial drone even be asking me out on a date? They’re robots! They don’t feel anything. Clearly this is just some sort of practical joke.”

You and Nepeta exchange confused glances while Karkat holds his head in his hands, growling in frustration. “Are you for real?! You wanna argue with the romance expert?! I have _studied_ this! Those drones are way fucking more than just mindless metal shells, and if you don’t take this chance at romance you’re probably doomed to never fill a pail for the rest of your life!”

”But-”

”No buts!” Karkat hisses. “We both know you don’t have any plans or any fucking life to speak of, so if that drone comes back here and invites you to dinner, you will accept and you will be fucking grateful about it! You don’t have to enjoy yourself, but if you don’t take this chance I swear I will make your working life so miserable you’ll want to be culled!”

Well then - clearly there was no arguing with the passionate troll. “As if it isn’t already,” you mutter in retort, but you don’t argue, instead sitting down and resuming your work. This was probably still some stupid joke anyways. More than likely the drone wouldn’t return.

\---

You have never been more wrong. Lunch and the afternoon pass by in the same dull, dreary way, leading you to believe that you were, in fact, correct in your prediction. However, just as you stand up from your desk, ready to leave for the day, your vision is filled with crimson and you fall back into your seat in shock. You have enough sense left in you to joke in your head that you didn’t think Imperial drones had ninja moves embedded in their code. The hulking figure is holding out a thick, fancy-looking piece of paper in your direction, so you wordlessly grab it. Letters, embossed in gold and surrounded by deep pink roses (they almost look purple, actually) cordially invite you to a fancy Italian restaurant for a romantic dinner for two.

”This is seriously for me?” you ask in a flat, mildly incredulous tone, attracting the attention of your neighbours. Nepeta smothers a giggle and Karkat glares daggers at you. The drone continues standing there, showing no reaction whatsoever. You continue admiring the illuminated letters, trying to stall for some way out of this, but you can’t really think of one. Honestly, Karkat’s right - you suck at romance and you really haven’t got anything better to do. And frankly, it’s a Friday - you don’t have to be up early tomorrow.

”How did you even get a reservation at this restaurant for Valentine’s Day? I didn’t think it was possible to get a reservation at McCrocker’s Fry Hut on Valentine’s Day.” Still no reaction from the red giant. “Strong silent type, huh? Sure, I’ll come out,” you answer, trying to keep the resignation from your voice. This seems to please the hulking monster, and it stalks out of the office. You guess you’ll be getting yourself there for 7:00 pm. Good thing you love Italian, and the restaurant isn’t far from here. You grab your stuff and head home to get ready. The idea of a date with a drone was absurd, but if Karkat finds out you didn’t dress up for it he’ll probably flay you alive.

You arrive at the restaurant just in time, vaguely noting that the parking lot nearby seemed oddly empty. You didn’t want to be early and seem eager, but you also don’t believe in fashionably late. You had decided on subdued, dark greys for attire. They matched everything and didn’t seem too presumptuous. A host in a sharp black tux greets you and gestures for you to pass through the doors into the dining hall, and you nod politely as you walk past. As you round the corner your vision picks out the only person in the entire dining hall - a person possessed of a mane of wild black hair, huge orange horns, and fuchsia eyes. Your blood runs cold at the sight.

”Well don’t be shy - come sit down,” the most powerful woman in the universe says to you in a slightly husky tone. If not for her razor sharp fangs, you might actually have been seduced. Even so, terror was barely beating out arousal. What the fuck is this? you think as you obey silently.

You both sit silently, staring at each other. Your face probably shows your terror to some degree, while the Condesce’s expression resembles a shark at an all-you-can-eat buffet. Finally, you work up a bit of courage and break the unnerving silence: “So… was that drone stalking me at your orders, or should I expect it to bust in here and challenge you to a duel for my affections?” As she nods slyly, the doors and windows all burst in with a synchronized, explosive crash. You fall out of your chair at the same time Her Imperial Condescension leaps out of hers, x2 forkkind weapon suddenly in hand.

”Get the fuck out of there, you fucknugget!” you hear Karkat’s voice screaming at you. You stand up and look around, taking in the army assembled before you. You vaguely recognize Karkat in some sort of armour wielding a pair of hand scythes next to Nepeta, dressed in a green trenchcoat with blue cat ears and long claws. Everyone seems to have a black armband with the red sigil of the Signless on it.

”If y’all know what’s best for ya, ya betta get out of here before I stick a fork in you frys and make sure you’re done!” the Condesce snarls at her foes, fangs bared. A gunshot rings out, and as the Condesce whirls to see who dared to shoot at _her_ , somebody grabs you and drags you beyond the circle of rebels.

”Eridan! You were supposed to wait for my signal, you fucking douche of a highblood!” Karkat screams, leaping to intercept the Condesce as she rushes the indicated troll.

The ‘fucking douche of a highblood’ sights down his oversized rifle, shouting defensively, “Wwell I had a clear shot and I wwas taking it!” The other rebels rush into the fracas or form a defensive perimeter, clangs and shouts and cries echoing off the walls. You seem to have been completely forgotten. You raise your hands in defeat and frustration, turn on your heel, and storm out.

As you leave the restaurant and cross the street you mutter under your breath, “And this is why I think that Valentine’s Day is a bunch of corporate fucking bullshit.” You don’t even turn around as the restaurant explodes behind you, raining fire and rubble in your path, just continue muttering profanities as you stomp your way back home. Fuck romance, fuck trolls, and especially fuck Valentine’s Day!

**Author's Note:**

> The author apologizes for the length of this story, and also for any spelling or grammar errors. This fic was written in like, four hours because the author has no fucking free time and chose the worst possible month to challenge the other to a writing competition. The author also apologizes for Nepeta not being as in character as the others, but the author couldn't be arsed to deal with cat puns. Fish puns are totes cool, though. Anyways, happy Valentine's Day y'all, and we both hope you enjoy our fics!


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